Bittersweet
by Zoni
Summary: After an argument, Eric tries to make things right with Alan. However, when Alan decides to reveal the source of his recent bout of illness, the discussion turns serious. One-sided Eric/Alan, Sad. Rating is for language.


**Bittersweet  
_by Zoni_**

**__**Eric exhaled as he pulled the cigarette from his lips. _Man, I really fucked up this time._

Turning away from the street, he pulled himself further into the doorway and out of the rain. He lifted another cigarette to his lips. Striking a match, he brought it to the mouth. Pulling in a breath, he tossed the match to the side and sighed. He had only stepped outside to breathe and try to relax. This was the only place he could go to get away from the scene that had unfolded in Alan's flat.

No amount of standing out in the weather could delay the inevitable. At this point, he was just biding his time. He would have to head back inside sooner or later.

Fighting always made Eric restless. That was doubly true when the argument was with Alan. Always kind, sweet and supportive, Alan was generally good company. That did nothing to change the fact that he could get under Eric's skin in a way that no one else could.

Petty arguments and minor confrontations had become common place over the past few months. Minor squabbles were one thing, but what had happened only a few minutes before had been something else entirely. Eric could still hear the sound of Alan's words ringing in his ears. While Eric had started the argument, his partner had managed to cut him to the bone with his responses.

Though Eric blamed himself, he knew that he was not entirely at fault. Alan had sunk far lower than Eric had thought he could. Petty insults were usually out of the question. The occasional comment about Eric's drinking and smoking habits were almost expected. Never before, however, had Alan accused him of worse forms of self-abuse. His comments had been biting insults rather than the usual friendly concern.

Even so, there was no doubt in Eric's mind that he had said much worse. There were certain lines that should not have been crossed. More than that, he had decimated them. Everything that he had done over the past hour had been a lengthy series of mistakes. Now, all that he was left with was the rain and a sense of regret.

The frustration and desperation he felt at the situation were not helping matters. Less than fifty feet away, Alan was undoubtedly crying inside the flat. While he had not been weeping when Eric had walked out, the tears had not been far away.

Causing Alan pain was the very last thing that Eric wanted. Every bone in his body was telling him to go inside and try to repair the damage that had been done. He wanted to simply turn around, pull Alan close and apologize until the frayed edges of both their tempers were smoothed over.

No matter how large or small the argument, touch was always his first response. Having Alan close could make even the worst situation seem better. More than anything, he loved Alan. Nothing would ever come of those emotions. How could it? Eric was well aware of the fact that he could never be anything more than a mentor and good friend to his younger partner. Comfortable companionship and the love of a friend were enough. He only wished that Alan would confide in him.

Trust was the one thing that Alan would not give him, no matter how close they might be. They had known each other for years. Despite that, Alan would not answer his questions. Eric did not know why Alan collapsed so frequently. Questions about listlessness, pain and mornings when the other man could not even get out of bed were ignored or brushed off as nothing. Something was very wrong with Alan Humphries. Everyone knew as much, yet Alan would not even talk about the reasons for it to the person who cared about him most. That thought was killing Eric little by little.

_Shit. Guess I'll have to fix it._

The trust between them was as thin as paper. Even so, dragging the argument out would not help. With a sigh, Eric threw the remains of his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his heel. Turning, he headed back into the flat.

_/(-)\_

__The interior of the apartment was deceptively peaceful and quiet. Sliding the door shut, Eric stepped inside and surveyed the room. The only sounds in the air were the crackle of the fire and the sound of dishes clinking against one another in the kitchen.

"Alan?"

Sliding the coat from his shoulders, Eric glanced towards the door that led into the dining area. The white fabric of Alan's sleeves was visible just beyond the doorway. If he was crying, Eric could not hear the sound.

Alan's silhouette barely stirred as the door clicked shut. After a moment, the young shinigami stepped away from the sink and met Eric's gaze. Nearly as soon as their eyes met, they both looked away. Though the fight had ended, the memory of it still lingered. However, there was only so long that animosity could last.

"You're going to make a mess," Alan told him quietly. Carrying a hand towel, he stepped into the living room. "All of your clothes are soaked. Did you really have to go out into the rain? You're dripping."

"Sorry."

Shrugging, Eric tried to take the suit jacket off with his overcoat. The effort only made the mess worse, scattering droplets of water all around him. With a sigh, Alan walked up and bent down to clean up the puddle. The instant he bent over, he gasped and clenched his chest. Eric frowned. This was exactly what bothered Eric.

As the look of distress on Alan's face worsened, Eric reached down and grabbed his wrist. "Hold on. Stop."

Pulling back feebly, Alan tugged his wrist out of the hold. "Let me go, Eric. I need to clean this up."

"We can't keep doing this," Eric told him. He made no move to stop him again.

Pausing in his efforts to clean up the mess, Alan looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean. I want answers."

Immediately, Alan turned his face away. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

No sooner had the words left his lips then Alan let out an involuntary shout. Doubling over, he tumbled forward. Reacting instantly, Eric dropped to his knees. He caught Alan in his arms before the brunet hit the floor. Pulling him close, Eric let out a grumbling sigh. A whimper slipped past Alan's lips as he cowered against the supervisor's chest.

This entire scenario was what bothered Eric. In his arms, he felt Alan's body shaking as he struggled for breath. Slick with sweat, Alan's skin was both flushed and drained all at once. Even when he was in such a distressed state, Alan would deny something was wrong if Eric ventured so far as to ask. What excuse would he use this time? Lack of sleep, missing a meal and long hours at work were the usual choices. They had been used countless times.

"Shit," Eric muttered, "you really are a terrible liar, y'know."

As he had done dozens of times before, Eric helped Alan get to his feet. With one of Alan's arms slung over his shoulder, Eric helped him over to the couch. The mess on the floor by the coat stand lay forgotten as Alan's breathing slowed. Leaning heavily against Eric's chest, he broke down into tears. Whatever he had held back from the argument earlier was poured out into the fabric of Eric's business shirt. Alan's arm tightened around the older man's waist as he used him for support.

Common sense told Eric that he should move away. The proximity between them was a little to personal, too close for comfort. He found it painful to watch Alan struggle against the problems that plagued him. That discomfort was fueled by both his inability to help and the fact that what drove Alan to hold onto him was far different from what Eric felt at having him so close.

Personal feelings did not matter nearly as much as Alan's well-being. With an arm wrapped around his partner's back, Eric knew that he did not really have a choice. If this was what Alan wanted, he would gladly give the safety of his arms and whatever comfort he could offer. He would be whatever Alan most needed.

Little by little, Alan's breathing quieted. As he calmed down, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For lying to you," he replied. "For being like this."

Leaning back, Eric rested his head on the backboard of the sofa. "Why won't you just tell me what the hell is wrong? You know you can trust me. This bothers the shit out of me, you know. It ain't just affecting you anymore."

"I know. I know, but I had to lie," Alan responded. "If I don't, you'll leave."

Sitting up straight, Eric gave a shout. "Leave? How can you even-"

Alan placed a shaky hand over his lips, stopping him mid-sentence.

"Stop. Please," Alan begged roughly, "just don't say that."

Tightening his hands in Eric's shirt, Alan's entire body was shaking. Eric was startled by the sudden display of emotion that he was seeing. Placing a hand on Alan's back, he patted in what he hoped was a comforting motion.

"C'mon, Alan, don't be like that. Calm down. Look, I'm your friend," Eric told him, "right? I ain't going anywhere. Nothing you say is gonna change that, got it?"

"You are such a good person, Eric. But even good people..."

Alan's words faded into silence. He coughed pitifully and buried his face in Eric's shirt, tearing up once more. Damp from the wetness, Eric's shirt stuck uncomfortably to his skin. He did not care. He was completely focused on the man that he held in his arms.

Even the smallest movement merited concern. The very subject that had sparked the fight earlier was the last thing he had expected to hear about from his partner. He knew better than to ask any more probing questions, though. The last thing he needed was to start another disagreement. Alan was in no state to be put under more pressure.

Prompted by the feeling of Alan shifting against him, Eric asked, "Are you okay?"

Continuing the gentle motion of his hand on his partner's back, Eric watched him with concern. Slowly, the shuddering breaths slowed and the tears stopped. Alan did not respond for a long while. Instead, he took his time to compose himself. Neither man made any move to pull away from the other. The comfort between them was mutual despite the tension that still hovered in the air around them.

When he was calm, Alan asked a question. "Eric, do you love me?"

The question was completely unexpected. Eric felt his heartbeat speed up as he considered the words. Surely, he had not heard that correctly. He was certain that Alan had not meant the words in the way that they had come across.

Eric pulled away far enough to study Alan's face, looking for an explanation. "What did you say?"

"I asked whether or not you are in love with me," Alan replied softly. "Please answer. It's fine either way."

Eric took his time formulating a response. He was thoroughly caught off guard by the unexpected question. There was no use denying the truth, not when he had never bothered to do much about hiding his affection for his younger partner. Honesty was always the best policy. No matter how dark the truth, he had never lied to Alan. He had no intention of starting then.

"I think you know I am," he murmured. Without thinking about it, he pulled Alan closer.

Leaning against him, Alan sighed. For a long moment, they simply shared the closeness. When Alan pulled away, he sat up. Turning, he faced away from Eric.

"Would you still feel that way if I was not going to be around for long?"

"What do you mean?" The knot of emotion tightened as he looked over at the other man. "Are you transferring to another division?"

"No, nothing like that..."

Alan curled in on himself, hugging his knees. Instantly, Eric's hand was on his back to offer support. "Then, what's the matter?"

Without turning back to him, Alan whispered his response. "I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful with you."

Eric snorted. "That's fucking obvious."

"Eric, I'm dying."

Silence. When they words came, they were an explosion.

"What do you mean, dying?" Eric demanded. "That's ridiculous. We're shinigami. We're immortal. Alan?"

Even as the words left his lips, he knew it was pointless to question him. There was truth behind what Alan had told him. The rattling sound of Alan's breath was a reminder of the suspicions that he had tried to push away.

Shinigami had no natural end to their lifespans. However, they were still susceptible to illnesses, both mortal and supernatural. Through the time that Eric had known Alan, he could not count the number of times that he had watched his partner collapse. A part of him had wanted to believe that Alan simply had a delicate constitution. Such a thing was not unheard of. Long hours, little sunlight and pressure from those higher up in the company could be stressful.

Stress, however, only explained a fraction of the symptoms that Alan showed. The weakness, the dark circles under his eyes and the frail way he moved after a long day were all telltale signs of a problem that Eric about which Eric had only heard rumors. He half-expected the word before Alan said it.

"I have the Thorns of Death."

Alan made no attempt to turn back towards Eric as the supervisor scooted closer to him on the couch. The petite brunet looked even smaller as he cowered, wrapping his arms around himself and looking pointedly away.

The Thorns of Death were well known to all shinigami despite the rarity of the condition. Their occurrence was so infrequent that it had become the subject of fairytales and distant memory. Even so, everyone knew that the illness was incurable.

The symptoms were nearly as crippling as the thought of death itself. When it had run its course, the Thorns invariably took the life of the person it plagued. For someone like Alan, who was so full of life, it was the worst possible fate.

A heavy exhalation punctuated the silence. Eric had too many questions. He did not know which to ask first. Alan made the decision for him.

"It started before you met me, just so you know," Alan told him. "Though, it was only during training that I was able to explore it."

Reaching up, Eric placed a hand on Alan's shoulder. His voice was guarded and gruff when he responded. "Explore what, exactly?"

"Death?"

"You wanted to die?"

Glancing at Eric over his shoulder, Alan offered him a small smile.

"Not exactly," he replied. "However, I wanted to understand what it felt like to die. I still wonder what comes after. Even we don't know that. These poor humans we collect each day, we never really think about them. To you, they are work. To me, they are more than that - they are people. I only wanted to understand them a little better.

"However, I made mistakes. Those mistakes are what have led me to this point. This is what I could not tell you. Please forgive me."

"There ain't shit to forgive," Eric responded automatically. Alan had not told him of the illness because he was afraid of the reaction that Eric might have to what he had done. Silently, the supervisor cursed. He should have figured it out sooner. Under his hand, Alan shivered.

Muttering, Eric said, "There's got to be something you can do about it, some medicine or some sort of hoodoo..."

Looking away once more, Alan's voice fell. "You are such a good man, Eric. You take such good care of your co-workers and trainees. I've never met anyone I looked up to as much as I do you, you know. I-"

"You should have told me sooner."

Sitting up straight, Alan turned to look at him in confusion. "Why?"

"Why? Why the hell _not_?" Eric nearly shouted.

Pulling away from Alan, he got to his feet. Running a hand through the loose side of his hair, he began to pace the room.

"It's not supposed to be like this," he muttered. "It ain't right. Fuck!"

Eric walked across the room in three broad strides. Leaning against the mantle, he stared into the fire and tried to collect his thoughts. There had to be something he was missing, something that could be done to help the situation or some hint of untruth to what Alan had said. He did not want to believe what he had been told. All memories of the earlier fight had been thoroughly erased from his mind. There were more important things to worry over.

Behind him, Alan gave no reaction to the loud cursing. Even though he meant everything to Eric, the supervisor could not bring himself to turn around and face him. The warm heat from the fireplace was too cheerful for the mood in the room. Pulling himself away from the hearth, he paced over to the large window that looked out on the rainy streets below.

His breath left his lips in a heavy exhale. He needed a drink, but there was no alcohol to be had. "So, what? You're just going to keep going like this until...? That's it?"

"Something like that," came the quiet reply. "It's not like I'll have to resign or anything. I can keep working for a while yet, so I won't have to sit at home and think about it."

"You can still work?" Eric asked, pausing. A realization began to sink in. He was not the first to know. Slowly, he turned and looked over his shoulder. "Alan, how many people know about this?"

"Mr. William. A few of the executives. Ronald."

Turning to face him fully, Eric's glowered. He was among the last to know. Even with as much of a gossip as Ronald Knox could be, he had not heard a word. What hurt the most was that these people, their co-workers, had known what was wrong before he had. Alan had not trusted him with news as serious as this, but he had been comfortable telling people who did not care about him beyond his capabilities at work or perhaps as acquaintances.

"You could tell the boss, but you couldn't tell me? You could tell _Ronald_, but you couldn't fucking tell _me_?"

Alan's face was completely emotionless. The lack of reaction made it clear that he had been given too much time to consider his situation. All of the emotional turmoil that Eric was now feeling had come and gone. Or, perhaps, it had simply been pushed away to be dealt with another day. He met Eric's eyes and then looked away, clasping his hands in front of him.

Shifting on the couch, he said, "It isn't like that, Eric."

"Isn't it? Dammit, how can you sit there and tell me it-"

"Aren't you going to ask the question that matters most?" Alan asked, cutting him off.

Eric paused, his tirade momentarily put aside. He was seeing red. "What question is that?"

Meeting his eyes once more, Alan replied, "Ask me how long I have left."

A chill hung in the air despite the heat from the fire. Some part of Eric did not want to know the answer to that question. That was why he had not asked. Anger and shouting went a long way to delaying knowledge of the inevitable. He did not know how to deal with a situation like this. Shinigami were not accustomed to dealing with mortality unless it had to do with humans. Alan was far from human, and yet he looked as fragile as one just then.

Unable to meet his eyes, Eric looked away. "How long?"

"Six or seven months," Alan replied. "Perhaps a year, if I am fortunate."

"Months," Eric repeated flatly.

The world felt like it was crumbling around him as he absorbed the information. Eric's mind was torn in two. Part of him wanted nothing more than to take the few steps to cross the living room and pull Alan into a protective embrace. The rest of him was furious beyond belief. He was frustrated at the fact that this situation was something beyond his control. He was an immortal god of death, strong even by shinigami standards. That strength would do nothing to save his friend.

With a loud shout, Eric turned and slammed his fist into the wall. Plaster and paint crumbled around his knuckles. The sting of the impact barely registered. He was too distracted by his own thoughts to care.

"Shit," he muttered, leaning heavily on his arm. "I ain't just going to sit by and watch this."

"This is why I didn't want to tell you," Alan said quietly. The words were barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain falling outside as the storm picked up. "I do not like seeing you in pain. I knew that this would hurt you. So, I thought that if I waited, it might hurt less. You think too much. I did not want you to have to think about this."

"Why the _hell_ would you ever think I wouldn't want to know?" Eric pulled his hand free of the wall, already regretting the damage done to Alan's flat. "I don't understand that. Don't understand it at all."

Without making a sound, Alan got to his feet. He walked slowly across the room until he came to stand directly behind Eric. Reaching up, he took the back of the supervisor's shirt loosely into his fingers.

"I'm sorry, Eric."

"For what?"

All of the anger drained from Eric's body as he registered the feel of Alan's hand on his back. Rather than warmth, his fingers felt cold through the fabric of the shirt. The grip tightened as Alan took a shaky breath.

"I've known how you felt about me for a long while. I know, but I can't let this be anything more. I am sorry." Alan put what little strength he had into the words. "I cannot bear the thought of this illness killing you, too. That's why."

"Then why even tell me?"

Leaning forward, Alan rested his head against Eric's back. "You needed to know. You are the only person that matters. I've always had you, even when I was otherwise alone. For that, if nothing else, I owe you everything."

"And yet, you didn't tell me."

"No, you're right. I didn't. I can be a selfish person, sometimes," Alan whispered. "I want to be selfish again. Will you do me a favor?"

Reluctantly, Eric replied, "What is it?"

"Love me for just a little while longer.

**End.  
**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Bittersweet is my contribution for the Eric and Alan fanbook. I had originally intended for it to be longer, but it wound up being this. I do apologize for Eric's mouth - I ran it by several beta readers, and all of them complained that he didn't curse enough. So, I added in a few more instances. No complaining about that, please - I think I'd lose no matter which way I decided to go with it.

I decided to write Bittersweet because I had not yet taken this particular approach to Eric and Alan. Hopefully, you found it a worthwhile read. Let me know what you think!


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